A few days ago I had a dream I was getting married. It was a wild waking moment. Phew! It hadn’t happened. I hardly knew her! We’d only met in the dream, I mean, that’s much too fast, come on. But the kernel lingered on, now days later. There were, I think, at least 10 dogs involved in my wedding ceremony. Hmm. I don’t recall seeing a dog in a wedding before. I wonder how many dogs have officiated human weddings? How many cats have been ring boys? Parakeets, ushers?

This is a photo taken by author Mark Doty of his two dogs Beau and Arden. His book, Dog Years, commemorates their lives, acknowledges their unique characters, and reveres them as great teachers of love, patience, and joy. It’s an homage to them, a beautiful memoir. It makes me happy to look at this fit of running, snow bound woof woof, so I share. (The ships frozen at sea in the distance tell a good story, too.)

Walking the streets of L.A., the odds are obviously high that you’re going to spot a celebrity. I’ve only been there a couple of times and I reckon the most famous person I have seen was the guy who played Topol from Fiddler on the Roof in a Broadway show in the seventies. Well, and I saw O.J. Simpson at his own infamous trial when I was in high school with my friend Robin and her mother (Robin’s mother won the tickets in an auction), but that’s a different kind of story. Perhaps according to some standards, I may be a dud light bulb when it comes to the laws of celebrity attraction. But don’t worry, I’m not beat up about it. I know my day will come when my celebrity boyfriend or girlfriend rounds the corner (I’ve got my eye on Ellen) and we knock heads, start dancing suddenly, and as they say, the rest will become history. I know it’s coming. But until then, the following event will be a great filler.

Roaming my old neighborhood yesterday near Golden Gate Park, I shuffled into oh-so-marvelous Booksmith, which is, next to Green Apple, my favorite book store in the city. I knew just what I wanted: William What’s-his-name’s new book about jumping freight trains. I tromped up to the register to inquire.

"May I help you?" friendly, greasy hair boy asks me.

"Yes! I’m looking for that new book about jumping freight trains. It’s by William What’s-his-name, the same guy who wrote Poor People … I can’t remember."

Greasy hair boy looks at me and his face starts to build a fantastic grin, slow, like the Grinch, but much kinder. He turns to his left and says to the guy standing behind him, "Hey William, I think she wants to buy your book."

William What’s-his-name’s old white t-shirt turns around and guffawed eyes widened, I see that there he is indeed, William Vollmann, the very author whose book I went into the store to purchase. He’s relaxed, rough, and a little dirty, like his writing. He smiles at me, gently shrugs his shoulders, and says with a warm sigh, "Cool."

Out of respect, it’s a compassionate gesture to withhold our geeky, starstruck bubbles when we encounter these ordinary people who have risen in social acclaim, so I did my best at that. Turns our William was in town on a book tour and had been at Booksmith the night before doing a talk. I did manage to compliment him once before I gave him back his anonymity, walked to the Sociology section in the rear of the store, and grabbed one of the last autographed copies of Riding Toward Everywhere. When I got back to the register, he was gone. Beaming, I opened my wallet and paid $18.95 for the hardcover book. It seemed a small price to pay to watch grace reveal itself before me.

I have a big crush on Bella … and her Mom, and their momversations, which increase in splendid factor each time they poke up on her blog.

It is true, I am writing my election coverage post (cross heart, it’z cominz soonz), but in between deep breaths of hope for a particular outcome of the Democratic Primary, I was so pleased to be tapped on the shoulder by Bella’s Mom who has returned with another tremendous bit of news: her cousin John, well, "he’s a gay."

I love the momversation posts because they capture something so difficult, and simultaneously so pleasant about the people we love aging inside this changing world.

Not sure if I’ve just been sitting on my hands the past week, or too full of experiences to write about any of it. This happens to us bloggers, gamers, scryers, and scribers: we must relinquish the updates to go do things in the RL (‘real world’ in gamer speak). Or maybe it was Harvey telling me I’ve been "really talking about my blog a lot."

Well, these square bananas with oatmeal tasted awesome. Chew on them while I tinker with my election post?